


WoI Episode 4: Gender Relations

by MrsHamill



Series: Riding the Wheel of If [5]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Multiverse, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-03-25
Updated: 2000-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8227477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: Another day, another reality.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this story was the part that got the most feedback, aside from the last episode. Mainly, it was the pervs on Master-Apprentice asking me to write more in that reality!

The sharp bang of displaced air rang through the dim garden, scaring some birds into flight, but there was no one and nobody else around to hear it. After a moment, a Jedi Knight strode out from a dark corner into the early evening air, pausing by the chuckling fountain to look around. Above him, the crowded Coruscant skies gleamed with all manner of air ships, and all around the lights from the high-rises surrounding the Jedi Temple drowned out the starlight. He smiled faintly. Though he looked young, his eyes had a sadness to them that made him appear older.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he walked into the Temple proper. It was dinner hour or just after, so there weren’t a lot of people about. He moved to one of the public terminals on the Main Concourse and called up some information, which evidently pleased him from his reaction. Erasing the information, he moved to the lift.

As he waited for the lift to arrive, Obi-Wan Kenobi couldn’t help but remember the last time he was in the Temple – a Temple that was empty and crumbling and very, very lonely. A Temple which only housed one Jedi, and which now housed none. A Temple where he had first made love to Qui-Gon Jinn. This Temple was completely opposite, alive, vibrant, and filled with people … with Jedi.

The third level was quiet, but from behind some of the doors he could hear muted voices or music, and occasionally smell cooking odors. Nervously, he approached one door, very much like all the others, and rang the chime.

Shortly the door opened to reveal a tall, dignified Jedi Master. Qui-Gon Jinn frowned down at the young man in his doorway and said, “Obi-Wan? What are you doing back? You’re supposed to be on the transport to the seminar at A’Kar’shi.”

//Shit,// Obi-Wan thought to himself briefly, //I’m alive here too. Forgot to check for that.// He opened his mouth to speak but nearly couldn’t. This Qui-Gon had no beard! He looked so much … younger, Obi-Wan thought. Different. Finally, he found his voice. “I – Qui-Gon. Master. I’m sorry, I’m not really Obi-Wan. It’s a long story. May I come in?”

Puzzlement and a touch of anger colored Master Jinn’s voice as he answered, “You live here, Obi-Wan. What in the Force is wrong with you? Where’s your braid?”

Unconsciously raising his hand to where his braid had been over a month before, Obi-Wan forced a slight smile. “That’s part of it. I’m not the Obi-Wan who lives with you … I’m from, oh hell, this is ridiculous. May I come in and explain?”

“I think you’d better.” That chilly tone of voice was used only for extremes of disgust or disappointment, and Obi-Wan gulped despite himself. Qui-Gon retreated to stand near the sofa, his arms crossed, his legs planted. “I saw you board that transport myself, Obi-Wan, four hours ago. Now here you are, no braid … wait. Your hair is different. You _look_ different.” Deep blue eyes raked him up and down, frowning. 

“I _am_ different, Master,” Obi-Wan said ruefully. “I’m from … well, I’m from a different reality. Different dimension. Whatever you want to call it; the Temple I grew up in is about four realities _that_ way,” he finished, rather ridiculously pointing with his thumb over his shoulder. “In my reality, you … you died. On Naboo. I suppose we never went there in this reality.”

“A different reality.” Qui-Gon’s expression became, if anything, more thunderous, and Obi-Wan could feel the man’s probe along his shields. Not wanting to hide, he opened himself enough so that Qui-Gon could at least feel his truth level. 

“Y – yes. I’ve been to what, four – no, five – of them already? The Sith have taken over in at least two of them, maybe starting to in a third. Senator Palpatine is …”

Abruptly, Qui-Gon walked directly to him, invading his personal space, and with one large hand grabbed his genitals and squeezed, hard. Obi-Wan yelped in shock.

Not releasing his firm hold, Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes as he looked down on the young Knight. “You must be telling something of the truth,” he growled. “You can’t be _my_ Obi-Wan anyway. You still have your testicles. Tell me more, whoever you are.”

Eyes widening in shock, all Obi-Wan was capable of thinking was _Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit_ as his fried brain tried to parse the meaning of Qui-Gon’s words. Qui-Gon, who was still standing very close to him and who still had a firm grasp around his penis and balls. A firm, rather possessive, grasp. “It’s true,” he managed to squeak out finally. “I’m from an alternate reality. I’m looking … I’m looking to figure out how I got here and how I can get home,” he lied quickly, easing his shields up more firmly. He was becoming quite afraid of this particular reality, not to mention this particular Qui-Gon.

“So you say you are Obi-Wan Kenobi, but from a different … a different reality?” Qui-Gon finally said, easing off but not releasing the smaller man’s genitals. “From a Temple that does not emasculate the pleasure boys?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan swallowed. “Master Yoda told me …”

“Master who?”

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit_ the litany began again as Obi-Wan realized just how deep he was getting. “Um, he’s one of the Masters at my Temple. Here, if you would let me go, I have some things in my pack to convince you,” he said with sudden inspiration. 

Reluctantly, the big man let him go and stepped away. Obi-Wan quickly sidled over to the table, where he made a show of removing his satchel, while turning himself away from Qui-Gon and quickly unclipping his ‘saber. “I’m sorry, he said, as he thumbed the power, “this one is too much for me.” With a bang, he disappeared.

\---

The clap of displaced air was still echoing in the apartment when Obi-Wan appeared, falling to one knee in nauseated reaction. He managed to turn off his ‘saber just in time to avoid slicing into the carpeting. _Shit! I’m still in the apartment!_ he thought to himself. A crash made him look up, still swallowing back bile, and his jaw dropped.

“Anakin?” he breathed. The young boy stood at the door of the kitchenette, the remains of a clean, wet casserole dish at his feet where he had dropped it in shock.

“Padawan?!” A woman’s voice rang out from the other room. As Obi-Wan struggled to his feet, a tall, attractive, older woman, with long, graying, light brown hair entered the room from the bedroom. She was dressed as a Master and had a lightsaber in her hand. When she saw Obi-Wan she stopped and staggered back against the door frame. Anakin ran to her and she wrapped one arm around him, obviously as much for support as to comfort him. “Obi-Wan?” she breathed.

“He – he just appeared, Master,” Anakin babbled, clinging to her.

Obi-Wan reached to the table for support, still woozy from shock and the transfer. This woman looked so _familiar_ …

In a deep, mellifluous voice, she said to Anakin, “Run, Anakin. Get Master Yoda. Hurry.” Watching the Knight suspiciously, Anakin eased his way around the outer wall of the room and darted out.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, “I didn’t mean to frighten Anakin. Your padawan. I don’t usually initiate the transfer inside …”

“Who are you?” the woman asked, her voice level, but with an underlying shakiness.

“I – I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m a Knight of the Jedi …”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi died over two months ago, on Naboo,” she said harshly. “I was there. He died in my arms. Now why don’t you tell me the truth?”

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan scrubbed his face with one hand. “I _am_ telling the truth. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day for me. Do you mind if I sit? If Master Yoda is coming, he’ll be able to confirm what I’m saying. He did a few realities ago, anyway.” Without waiting for her permission, he sank into one of the chairs at the table. “I’m moving between realities. I’ve come, oh, I don’t know, unstuck somehow. At least that’s how I feel. Gods. The last one …” He dropped his satchel on the floor at his feet and leaned back in the chair. “I’m so sorry to have frightened you.”

The woman had not moved and was still staring at him, her gaze still shocked, and curiously hungry. “You … don’t _feel_ insane. Are you a clone?”

“No!” he said vehemently. “I’m sorry. I ran into a clone of me a couple of realities back and it shook me up. It was a Sith, you see.” He shook his head ruefully. “Didn’t bother me as much as meeting myself did though. I don’t suppose I’m making much sense. But I’m not insane. Just tell me, is Qui-Gon still alive here? Or … oh Force, is there even a Qui-Gon here?”

She looked confused. “Who?”

Before he could answer, the door whooshed open to admit Anakin, carrying Yoda on his back. The wizened Master had the boy kneel, then came over to Obi-Wan, who fell out of the chair to his knees to greet him. “Master Yoda,” he said, relieved. “I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.”

Yoda seemed just as surprised to see him as the female Master had. “What have we here then, hmmm?” he asked, as much to himself as to the others in the room. “Obi-Wan Kenobi it seems to be, yes.”

“I _am_ Obi-Wan, Master Yoda. I was building myself a new lightsaber. When I tested it, it somehow transferred me to another reality, another dimension,” Obi-Wan said. “I talked to you … I mean, one of the yous … on the second, no third, reality, and you said it was a world of ‘if’, that ‘if’ ruled all. If a tree died, the world would be different than if the tree had lived.” Obi-Wan realized he was on the verge of babbling, but he was so rattled by this time he couldn’t stop himself. “Every time I ignite my ‘saber, I move. I shift. You, I mean, that other you, advised me never to move except while outside, and I usually do, but the last time …” he shuddered. “I had no choice. I’m sorry to have frightened you,” he said again to the strangely familiar Master.

She was still standing in the same place, and Anakin had come to stand before her, his little face twisted in puzzlement. “You can’t be Obi-Wan,” Anakin finally said, in a reasonable tone of voice. “Obi-Wan died. Master Mar-Gon and I were at the immolation.” He looked up to the Master and took her hand, squeezing it in sympathy.

“Nevertheless,” Yoda said, putting one hand thoughtfully on Obi-Wan’s head, “Obi-Wan he is. How this is possible, I know not. Familiar you are with events on Naboo?” Obi-Wan nodded mutely. “Then tell us, you will, what happened to you.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Obi-Wan tried to find his center and calm down. _Why does it always have to begin with the damn story?_ he thought in futility. “Master and I were sent to mediate a dispute with the Trade Federation. When we got there, the Federation attacked Naboo. We managed to get the Queen off the planet, but our ship was damaged and we had to make an emergency landing on Tatooine. That’s where we found Anakin.” Obi-Wan smiled briefly at the boy, who smiled uncertainly back.

“Qui-Gon felt he was the ‘chosen one’,” and here Obi-Wan struggled to contain the anger he always felt at that, “and presented him to the Council for training. I told him, probably too often, that Anakin was too old, but he did anyway. When they rejected him, he pushed me aside and took Anakin as his Padawan Learner. We went back to Naboo, where a Sith creature attacked us in the Naboo power plant. We fought it, I got separated from Qui-Gon, and the next thing I knew it had cored him. I managed to get out from the rotating fields and barely managed to kill the thing, with Master’s ‘saber as mine got dropped in the melting pit.”

Here, he pulled out Qui-Gon’s ‘saber and handed it to Yoda. “Qui-Gon died in my arms, making me promise to train Anakin. About a month later, I built my own ‘saber, tested it, and I’ve been moving ever since. I’ve seen things …” He looked up then and saw the strange Master’s face white with shock.

“Yoda …” she said, her voice strangled.

The small green Master was examining the ‘saber in his claws. “Your ‘saber this is, Mar-Gon,” he said. “Bigger it is, but essentially same.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, that’s Master Jinn’s ‘saber, Master.”

“I am Master Jinn,” the woman said.

Dumbfounded, Obi-Wan’s head snapped around and he gasped. “What?” he asked, his voice several octaves higher than normal.

“I am Mar-Gon Jinn,” she said, shakily taking a seat at the table, Anakin still at her side. “And everything you’ve just said …” she shook her head. “What did the Sith thing look like?” she suddenly demanded.

“It was ugly,” Obi-Wan responded, whispering. Without noticing, he had dropped from his knees to his butt. His head was whirling. “Bald, with tiny horns on its head. It looked kind of Zabrakian. It had red and black patterns all over its face, like tattoos, its eyes were orange and it had disgusting teeth. It fought with a double-bladed red lightsaber.”

Yoda and Master Jinn stared at each other for a long moment, then Yoda nodded, and she buried her head in her hands. “This isn’t possible,” she murmured in a choked voice. Anakin patted her back awkwardly, trying to comfort.

“My Padawan,” Yoda said gently, “to the bottom of this we will get, yes. Center, you must.”

“ _You’re_ Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan said, his brain still trying to encompass it. “This isn’t – I don’t – oh, Force,” he moaned, closing his eyes and burying his head in his hands, “I can’t do this. I can’t. This after the last one …!”

Impatiently, Yoda tugged on his hand. “From padawan of my padawan, expect such behavior I do not,” he said sternly. “Come with me you will. In my quarters will you sleep tonight. Talk again tomorrow we will.” He looked over at Anakin as he tugged on Obi-Wan. “Young Padawan, look after your Master you will.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Anakin said, his chest puffing with pride. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Smiling, Yoda tugged Obi-Wan again, urging him to his feet. “Know that I do. Speak in the morning we will, Mar-Gon.” Looking up at the now standing Obi-Wan, Yoda said, “Cloak do you have? Not good to be seen yet, I think.”

“Y–yes, but it’s black. I lost my other one and forgot to bring one from the last …”

Looking at his Master for confirmation, Anakin said, “I’ll go get one from your closet, Master. Master Yoda’s probably right, it would be too confusing.”

Nodding absently, Mar-Gon never took her devastated gaze from Obi-Wan’s face.

\---

Thankfully, Yoda lived on the same level, but a few corridors away. He walked slowly, with a cloaked and hooded Obi-Wan at his side. Obi-Wan’s brain was simply too numb to try to reason why Mar-Gon Jinn would have one of his cloaks in her closet. Reaching the diminutive Master’s apartment, Yoda waved him inside, set the privacy lock, and indicated he should take one of the full-sized chairs. He did, gratefully sinking into the depths and putting a hand over his eyes.

A few minutes later, Yoda presented him with a cup of tea, then took a seat on the small bench he used as a sofa. He examined Obi-Wan with shrewd eyes while the Knight sipped his tea – prepared exactly the way he liked it – and spoke when he deemed the panic level had dropped sufficiently for coherence.

“Padawan room have I,” he said, indicating one door off the main room. “Sleep there you will tonight. Mar-Gon was last resident – big enough for you, the bed is.”

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan murmured. 

“Hummmph.” Yoda merely replied. Then after another moment’s silence, he added, “Eaten, have you?”

“Not … not for a while, no,” Obi-Wan said, “but I’m not really hungry.”

Another inarticulate noise and Yoda hopped off the bench and disappeared into his kitchenette, returning with a large sandwich of cold meats and cheeses, as well as a chilled bottle. “Left over this was from your last visit,” he said, giving the bottle and the sandwich to Obi-Wan. “Your favorite it is. Drink it, no one else will.”

The bottle was unfamiliar; the drink smelled pungent and earthy. Obi-Wan sipped, then guzzled. “Oh, it’s good. What is it?”

“Root beer,” Yoda said, satisfaction radiating out of him. “Not have it, do you, where you come from, then.”

“No. It’s glorious. Do you have any more?”

Cackling, Yoda said, “Six pack have I. But price there is, for each bottle. Tell me, you will, all that has happened to you.”

Wolfing down the sandwich he hadn’t realized how much he needed, Obi-Wan nodded. “Gladly, Master. After the last place I visited …” he shuddered. “And … and I found Qui-Gon. But he was alone, all alone, and he – he died again. Oh, Master Yoda,” he whispered, very near tears. Some small, still rational part of his brain noted with dispassion how his emotions appeared to be careering all over the place and wondered why.

Yoda must have been reading him; the great golden eyes were narrowed in concentration and the ears were perked up with interest. “To healers, you should go, tomorrow. Psychic damage there may be. But for now, tell me all, then sleep you will.”

They stayed up long that night. Obi-Wan talked, polishing off four of the six bottles of root beer, telling Yoda of all the places he had seen and been. When he spoke of Palpatine being a Sith lord, Yoda’s eyes grew even larger (if that was possible), and he nearly shook with rage before visibly calming himself.

“Long time have I mistrusted and disliked that son-of-a-mynock,” he grated out, and Obi-Wan blinked to see Yoda actually furious. “Report this, I will, to Council. But later.”

Oddly enough, Yoda seemed most interested in the last version of the Temple he had seen. When he described how Qui-Gon had identified him by grabbing his genitals, Yoda put a claw over his eyes and began making strange strangled noises. After a moment, Obi-Wan realized he was laughing. 

“It wasn’t funny, Master,” Obi-Wan said in a somewhat aggrieved tone of voice. 

“When eight hundred fifty years old you are, padawan,” Yoda managed to wheeze out, “find humor in such a situation you will too.”

Finishing the last bottle as well as his tale, Obi-Wan finally fell silent. Then he added, as an afterthought, “I can’t seem to grasp the idea of Qui-Gon as a female. Perhaps I should just go.”

Shaking his head, Yoda said, “No. Realize you must, equal chance there is for gender in all worlds. Mar-Gon – my last Padawan she was. Great in the Force she is; stubborn, too. Always questioning, she is. Thorn in the Council’s side.” Obi-Wan was surprised to hear the same half-exasperated, half-proud tone in Yoda’s voice he often used when describing Qui-Gon; then he wondered at his surprise.

“She really _is_ Qui-Gon,” he murmured, half sadly.

Nodding Yoda said, “Events you described on Naboo, same they were here. But realize you must, put you … put Obi-Wan aside Mar-Gon did _not_. Realize now I do that Anakin must be trained. Realize this you do too, in your heart.”

A bit ashamed, Obi-Wan nodded. “I – I think I do. I do. I never really disliked Anakin, just …”

“Envied him you did,” Yoda finished for him, softly, understandingly. “As did Obi-Wan here. Fought they did, on way to Naboo.”

“We did too,” Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes misty.

“Sacrificed himself he did, to save his lover, on Naboo.”

That brought him up short. “They – they were lovers?” he stuttered.

“Yes,” Yoda said, eyeing him shrewdly. “Vows they were to take, on his knighting day. Not so on your world, yes?”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the chair. “No. No, we weren’t. Everywhere else but where I was, apparently,” he added bitterly. “Why, Master Yoda? Why didn’t he see how much I loved him?”

“So sure you are that he did not?” Yoda asked gently. “Wait for you, he could have, in power plant. Yet he did not. Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know, pride? He didn’t feel he needed my help? He didn’t want me to get … to protect … oh, Force.” Sudden understanding cascaded in on Obi-Wan. “ _Why_ didn’t he _tell_ me?!” he suddenly howled, burying his head in his hands.

Yoda climbed off his bench and came over to stroke Obi-Wan’s hair gently. “Perhaps for same reason told him you did not,” he said quietly. “Ready then, you were not. Ready now, you are. I sense much growth in you over last few days. Emotional, spiritual. Adjusted to it you have not. For a few days, rest here you will. Adjust. Help you I will.”

It was a calmer Obi-Wan who finally dragged his hands from his face. He looked into the understanding, wise eyes before him and sighed. “I will. Thank you, Master Yoda.”

His ears perking up, Yoda said, “My job it is. Help I provide with root beer and consolation. The obvious I point out. To bed with you now; eight hundred fifty years old you may not be, but tired you are.”

On the verge of laughing hysterically, Obi-Wan got himself under control and nodded. He stood, shouldering his pack, and made his shaky way into the Padawan’s bedroom.

\---

The next morning, a cloaked and hooded Obi-Wan went with Yoda to the healer’s section, where he was poked and prodded and scanned until they had nothing else to do to him. Yoda left half way through the multi-hour ordeal, asking him to come to the topiary garden when he was finished. Exhausted and hungry, for the tests had taken him beyond the midday meal, Obi-Wan finally sought out the little green Master.

The topiary garden had always been a favorite of Qui-Gon’s, a quiet place in which to meditate and listen to the living Force. Not many went there, and nearly no one young did, since it was designed as a place of quiet contemplation. Obi-Wan felt the Force envelop him the moment he stepped out into the sunlight, and he lowered the hood of his robe to allow the sun to shine on his face. The stress of the last few days began to recede under the calming influence of the garden.

He did not sense Yoda’s presence. But in a sunny spot, near the yew that was painstakingly shaped as a pouncing feline, Mar-Gon Jinn knelt in meditation. He spotted her, hesitated briefly, then turned to go.

“Please stay,” she said, so softly he almost didn’t hear her. After a moment, he turned back, shed his robe and knelt near her, not in her direct line of sight. “My meddlesome Master decided that we needed some time alone together,” she said, not opening her eyes. “Which is why he left me here to wait for you.”

Obi-Wan chuckled softly. “It seems that Yoda is the same no matter what reality I’m in,” he said.

“I would find it hard to believe he could change,” she agreed seriously. “He is rather set in his ways.”

They fell silent, each basking in the sun and the serenity surrounding them, allowing tension and other negative emotions to recede. Eventually, calmly, she began to speak, her voice low.

“Obi-Wan and I became lovers on his twenty-first birthday,” she said. “I knew he was in love with me, but really had thought it was just an infatuation on his part. He proved me wrong. Every one of my objections he refuted with a logical argument. When I finally gave in, I realized the depth of my love for him as well. Our bond went very deep, to my surprise. I felt twenty again, instead of the decrepit old Master I am.”

The normal denial sprang to Obi-Wan’s lips; it was with an effort he swallowed it back, preferring instead to listen. “Naboo was a trial to both of us. I said things I did not mean to say, and I’m sure he did as well. We argued about Anakin, about the Gungans – everything. And I hurt him, very badly, in the Council Chamber.”

Her face still serene, Obi-Wan was beginning to sense the turbulence beneath her calm demeanor. “I never had a chance to explain. I never … we argued all the way back to Naboo. It was not how I would have chosen to spend my last days with my lover. But we seemed incapable of moving beyond the pain we felt.

“When – when he was injured, he apologized. It should have been me apologizing to him. He told me I was right, that Anakin was the chosen one, and he gladly stepped aside for him. Then he died in my arms.”

Shuddering, she hugged herself tightly, opened her eyes and turned to Obi-Wan. “That is _not_ what I wanted to do,” she said firmly. “Never, ever did I want to push you away, push him away, for Anakin. I never got to say it to him, so I say it to you. Forgive me. Forgive me for hurting you so.”

Biting his lower lip, Obi-Wan looked at her for a long moment. His hand came up without his realizing it to trace the line of her nose. “Your nose was broken,” he whispered.

She looked stricken. “Yes. I was ten …”

“And you fell off an eopie on a mission with Yoda,” he finished. “I know. You told me.”

Letting his hand drop back to his lap, Obi-Wan said, “When Qui-Gon stepped behind Anakin and said he would take the boy as his Padawan Learner, my life just shattered. He didn’t know how much I loved him – at least, I don’t think he did. I remember the look he gave me, over his shoulder, an expression I simply can’t describe.

“We did talk, once we got back Naboo, I apologized and he accepted my apology. I always thought he wanted to say more, but he never did. And then events just occurred too rapidly for any other words.”

His eyes closed in memory. “I was trapped outside the cycling fields. Qui-Gon and that Sith thing were almost all the way inside. Qui-Gon knelt in meditation, showing off, something, I don’t know. But when the fields cycled, they began fighting again, and he wouldn’t wait for me. I was trapped between the force-fields and had to stand there and watch as that thing stabbed him.”

He felt a soft touch on his cheek, opened his eyes to see Mar-Gon staring entranced at the tear she had wiped from his face. “That’s exactly what happened,” she murmured, “but it was you. You wouldn’t wait for me. Why?”

A world of pain dwelled in each pair of eyes. “Perhaps we were all just trying to protect the ones we loved,” Obi-Wan whispered harshly. “At least you knew he loved you. I didn’t have that luxury.”

She looked deep into his eyes. Her own eyes were the glorious indigo of Qui-Gon’s; the lashes were perhaps a tad longer, the face just a bit rounder, the voice an octave higher. But she was definitely Qui-Gon, there was no longer any doubt in his mind. When she spoke, her voice carried that faint burr that Qui-Gon’s often did when he was overcome with emotion. “He loved you,” she said, firm conviction in her words. “I cannot imagine being me and not loving you. He – he just didn’t know how to tell you.”

There was nothing he could say to that, no way he could reply to the hurt and pain in that strange and familiar face. With exquisite timing, his stomach rumbled, and she swallowed, forcing a weak smile.

“You’ve been with the healers for most of the day – not something either of us like – and missed noonmeal. Come back to the apartment. I’ll get you a sandwich or something.”

Nodding, not trusting his voice, he rose and followed her back into the building, raising his hood against inquisitive eyes, as she did. As he followed her, he realized how much even her aura felt like Qui-Gon’s; she was shorter, but not by much, and still had an inch or so over him. 

Once in the safety of the apartment, they removed their robes and she moved into the kitchenette. “Anakin is at class this afternoon. I’ve got some of that sweetbread you like and golath fruit.”

“That would be lovely,” he said, his voice sounding strange to his ears. “Do you … Master Yoda had a drink last night …”

She laughed, and it was Qui-Gon’s laugh. “You and your root beer. You’re lucky, Anakin seems to be developing a taste for it. You know I hate the stuff.” Suddenly she froze in the middle of removing a dark bottle from the coldbox. “I mean … Sith. Never mind.”

They sat at the table, she took some sweetbread for herself to be polite, and Obi-Wan filled his rebellious stomach. She did her best not to stare, but it was obvious she was having a hard time of it, and he felt increasingly uncomfortable.

“Yoda tells me,” she said, struggling to break the desperate silence between them, “that you have had some very … strange … adventures. And what is this about Palpatine?”

Taking a swig from the bottle, he snorted. “That was something I discovered at the second … no, third … reality. Palpatine had set himself up as Emperor and had created an army of Sith.”

“No!”

“Uh-huh. Naboo never happened there, at least I don’t think it did,” he continued, finishing the last of the fruit and leaning back in his chair. “Almost the entire Council had been wiped out by a bomb, planted by the Sith, and he had whittled the Jedi down to just a few hundred or less.”

As he told the tale, the awkwardness between them began to ease. She fetched him another bottle of root beer and got herself some tea. He then briefly described his first two trips, and glossed over the fourth. “Xanatos?” she said, musingly. “I – I have vague memories of the name. Rina was my first Padawan, and Arthapa Depriss my second. Thapa was a handful too. Then of course I lucked out with you … I mean …”

Obi-Wan began talking quickly to cover her error. “I think you were lucky, then. Xanatos was Qui-Gon’s second Padawan, he turned to the dark. Qui-Gon – I mean, my Qui-Gon – was forced to kill him.”

“That's amazing … I suppose the reason I don't know him is that he's male. Although, I was considered something of a rebel to take a Padawan of a different sex with you, anyway. I’ll look him up in the Temple records,” Mar-Gon decided. “I’m certain I’ve heard the name before. Hard to believe that one person could wreak such havoc.”

“That’s what I said. I’m still getting used to this, I think. The last reality …” he shivered and she looked at him oddly.

“You’ll have to be more specific than that, Obi-Wan,” she said, and he realized that was the first time she had called him by his name. 

Briefly he described what had happened, while her jaw dropped farther and farther. “Pleasure boy?” she finally choked out, apparently unable to decide whether to laugh or gasp in astonishment. 

“That’s what he said,” Obi-Wan said sourly, finishing the last bottle of root beer. “I didn’t stay around long enough to get more details.”

“I should say not!” she agreed, her eyes dancing. “Can you imagine Yoda in that universe? I'm glad his name wasn't recognized!" They both snickered, and Mar-Gon continued, "But I’ve always said you would make a fine pleasure worker if you weren’t …” Suddenly seeming to realize what she was saying, she pressed her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide in distress. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “This isn’t working. I can’t … I know you’re not him … but …”

“I’m sorry too, Master,” he said quietly. On impulse, he rose and quickly walked around the table to where she sat, then bent to one knee next to her chair and took her hand. “I’ve been searching for my Master,” he said, quietly, “to tell him some things. The Qui-Gon I made love to the other day was not my Qui-Gon, and even had he not died, I don’t think I would have been happy staying with him.”

“Are you so sure, Obi-Wan?” she asked, her other hand on his face, the callused thumb tracing his lower lip.

“Yes, I’m sure, because I never had the urge to tell him this … that I’m sorry. Sorry for arguing about Anakin, sorry for not guarding your back better, sorry … sorry for not telling you that I loved you …”

Her hand on his mouth made him stop. “No need, Obi-Wan,” she was saying, fighting back tears. “No need. I know. He knows. And I’m sorry too. Sorry for so many, many things.”

She brushed his lengthening hair back away from his face tenderly. “I miss your braid,” she murmured. “You used to laugh at me when I used it to tug you towards me, kept saying ‘that is not a handle, Master,’ every time I did …”

He captured her hand in one of his and gently kissed her fingers. “I’m sorry I’m not him, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice low and harsh.

Shaking her head hard, in negation or denial neither of them knew, she pulled him towards her with both hands and kissed him roughly, invading his mouth with her tongue and pouring her soul into his. After a stunned moment, he kissed her back, just as deeply.

They both broke away, panting for air, at the same time. “You even taste like him,” Obi-Wan groaned, running his hands over and through her braided hair.

“So … so do you,” she gasped, sliding to the floor next to him. “Need … need you,” she said, her lips meeting his in another kiss.

“Want you,” he murmured, his lips wandering over her face and neck, to nip and then suck at her earlobe. 

She gasped and pulled him closer for a moment, then suddenly seemed to come to herself to push him away, gently, and hold him at arm’s length. Taking deep breaths, she got herself back under control. “This is not wise,” she said slowly and firmly, studying the floor between them. “You are not the man I loved, and will be moving on. Yes?” At that, she looked up, hope and despair warring on her face. “You do know, you have a home here, if you wish it. A stopping point.”

Nearly overcome with emotion himself, Obi-Wan forced himself to calm down, to think again. “I – I don’t know …” he said slowly. “I haven’t … oh, gods. Master, I don’t know what to do.”

Closing her eyes, she sank back on her heels. “Then this is not the way to sane contemplation, is it?” she asked gently, wrapping her long arms around herself. 

“N – no,” he agreed, reluctantly. Part of him wanted her so bad it hurt, and that part made him smile a bit through his confusion and lust.

“What?” she asked gently, seeing the small smile.

“I – I don’t know,” he answered, helping her to her feet. “It’s just funny, I guess. Male or female, we seem to be destined to be together some way or other.”

“Even as a pleasure boy, evidently,” she responded, wryly.

He laughed, a little, forced thing. “Even as that. I couldn’t see you as Qui-Gon at first, now I can’t see you as anything else.”

That troubled her for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on. Rather than worry at it, she took a deep, cleansing breath and re-centered herself. “It seems we have excess energy to work off. Would you care to spar? It always seemed to work in the past.”

Obi-Wan nodded, agreeing that it might help indeed. “But I can’t use my ‘saber,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right. Wait here.” She slipped into her bedroom briefly and returned with a ‘saber, which she handed to him after a moment's hesitation. “Yours wasn’t lost. I’ve kept it … as a memory.”

Mouth open in shock, he took the ‘saber from her and hefted it. It was, indeed, his ‘saber and he swallowed in emotion as the familiar grip slipped into his hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s enough,” she said, her own voice rough. “Let’s go spar.”

\---

Sparring with Mar-Gon was both alike and different than sparring with Qui-Gon. She hadn’t quite the reach or the strength of Qui-Gon, but did have an increased agility and tendency to aerials that he had not. It didn’t take Obi-Wan long to adapt to her slightly different style, and they both enjoyed themselves.

He joined her and Anakin at dinner, along with Yoda, who said little but watched all with bright, inquisitive eyes. Anakin chatted with Obi-Wan, easily accepting that which his elders had difficulty with. Obi-Wan found himself unconsciously slipping into teacher mode frequently, since Anakin’s classes had been mechanical engineering and theory, something the boy excelled at instinctively. After dinner, he helped Anakin clean up, over the boy’s weak protestations, then sat and listened happily while Mar-Gon, Yoda and Anakin spoke of the latest Temple gossip. Soon it was Anakin’s bed time, and he bid the child sleep well with a peaceful heart.

Soon after Anakin, Yoda stood. “Retire, I shall too. In need of sleep does old Yoda become, like young boy.” He looked between the two left, silently assessing. Then he turned, and as he left, said, “Door I will leave keyed to you, young Knight. See you or not I will at breakfast.”

As the door closed behind him, the two Jedi laughed gently. “So much for subtlety,” Mar-Gon said. “Can I get you another root beer?” she asked, rising.

He stood to follow her. “I’d love one, but I can get it.” He fetched the bottle from the coldbox as she put water on for tea, then sipped it as he watched her prepare the leaves, milk and honey. She turned before the water boiled and caught him staring at her. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, looking down.

She moved to stand directly in front of him and with a gentle touch, lifted his chin. “It’s all right, Obi-Wan,” she said softly. “This is not a situation I would wish upon my worst enemy.”

He lifted his lips in a brief, sad smile. “If I stay, we’ll always have this tension between us, won’t we,” he asked. “Even if … even if we become …”

Swallowing, she gave him an anguished look. “You aren’t him,” she whispered, caressing his cheek, a touch he unconsciously leaned into. “I’ll always know it, deep down.”

“It’s the same with me,” he murmured. With the realization and admittance came a lessening of the strain between them, and finally their eyes could meet honestly. “I would … I would give you a gift tonight, before I leave,” he said, slowly. “But I have no wish to hurt you, and I think it might.”

“You always were wise beyond your years,” she said, ignoring the teapot whistling behind her. After a moment, she turned and poured with shaking hands, steeping the tea. After a few minutes more, to let it cool, she sipped. “I cannot deny that I am sorely tempted,” she said in a dreamy voice. “To be able to hold you in my arms one last night …”

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan put his bottle on the counter, then took her teacup and set it down as well. Then he carefully enfolded her in a tight embrace. Some small part of his brain marveled at how close in height they were, while the rest of him fought to keep his physical reactions to a minimum, without much success. They stood wrapped in each other’s arms for a long moment, simply taking comfort in the other’s presence. 

"When we're like this," Mar-Gon whispered, probably not even aware she was speaking, "I can let go my grief and fall into fantasy. Holding you again... Feeling you hard against me..." 

Reluctantly, they drew apart. “I’d best go now, I think,” he said roughly.

“Yes,” she gasped, her hands falling from his neck. 

Before stepping away, he leaned in and kissed her once more, a hot, hard kiss that stole breath. Then he backed out of the kitchenette, his eyes not leaving hers until he turned in the sitting room to walk out.

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

\---

Yoda said nothing at all to him at breakfast, merely served him some of his favorite hot sticky buns and juice. After they had broken their fast, he said, “Given you clean bill of health, the healers have. Meditate more, they suggest. Share meditation with me this morning?”

“Yes, Master,” he replied quietly. “I would like that. Then … I think I should go, by noonmeal or just after.” Meeting Yoda’s sad gaze, he continued, “It’s just too painful to stay. For both of us.”

Sighing, Yoda said, “Understand I do. Sorry, I am. But right thing you are doing. Proud of you, I am. Very proud.”

Unaccountably, that brought a huge lump to Obi-Wan’s throat, which he barely managed to wash away with the last of the juice. Then they knelt together in a sunny patch of Yoda’s apartment and meditated, the presence of the aged Master a great comfort and support to Obi-Wan. He emerged from meditation calmer and more at peace with himself than he had felt in days.

After noonmeal, they went to the main statuary garden, the site of so many of Obi-Wan’s transfers. Yoda reiterated what another version of himself had advised, that Obi-Wan should always initiate the transfer from outside, at least where possible. Yoda had also replaced his rather battered satchel with a sturdier backpack, and as Obi-Wan hefted it he heard a tell-tale clink of bottles.

“Only one six-pack,” Yoda said, cackling. “When gone it is, gone it is for good. But give you pleasure it will for a while.” After a moment, he added, “When change you do, seek me out you should first. Help you I will, I think, more than any other.”

As they made their way through the garden, heading for the quiet corner Obi-Wan knew to be out-of-the-way, a shout behind them made them turn. Mar-Gon and Anakin were hurrying across the grass towards them, out of breath.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” Anakin demanded, his face stricken. 

With a pang, remembering how he left his own Padawan behind, Obi-Wan knelt and held out his arms to Anakin, who swarmed into them. “I’m sorry, Ani,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to. I just … didn’t want …”

“To hurt Master Mar-Gon again,” Ani whispered back, seriously. “I know. I promise, I’ll take good care of her.”

Swallowing around his tears, Obi-Wan said, “I know you will. I know you will.” Then he stood and faced Mar-Gon. Her face was composed but her eyes were suspiciously bright. They hugged tightly, and kissed chastely. He pressed his lightsaber into her hand. “I have yours – his,” he said harshly when she tried to protest. “This is all you have left of him. I can’t take that from you.”

“Take care, Obi-Wan,” she said, her voice rough with tears. “The Force will be with you, I know.” Kissing him gently one last time, she released him, mouthing, “Remember me.”

“I will,” he mouthed back. Quickly kneeling again, he felt Yoda’s blessing upon his head. Then he stood, moved into the shady, sheltered corner, drew his ‘saber and with a bang, disappeared from their lives forever.


End file.
